


Accidental Christmas

by mosslover



Series: Of Art and Rocks [1]
Category: Poldark - All Media Types, Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Christmastime, Death in the Family, Dorks in Love, Family Issues, Fluff, M/M, Not a major character though, Sexual Content, francis poldark and george warleggan make an appearance, mild angst later on, snowstorm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-24 18:58:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17106293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosslover/pseuds/mosslover
Summary: Four Christmases and one New Year's Eve: little glimpses into what the future holds for geology student Ross and art student Jim.





	1. From Paris With Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just had a sudden desire to revisit these two :)
> 
> The first chapter takes place in the same year as the main story, following after its events.

Jim kept the main light in his room off when he came in, only making do with a small lamp on the small side table. It was past midnight now and the streets of Montmartre outside his window were hushed and quiet. Jim had been one of the rare few people out at this hour of Christmas Eve; the chilly night time air still lingered in his nostrils. 

He stripped off his jacket and took off his boots before flopping down on the bed, reaching for his tablet. He had to blink a few times when the screen came to life and his eyes protested the sudden harsh brightness; they were accustomed to the soft glow of street lamps and the near darkness of the staircase up to the flat where he'd booked a small room through air bnb. 

The solitary walk through Paris' famous quarter had been nice, if a bit wistful. But the fact that he was spending Christmas like this - alone, and in a foreign country - bothered him much less than he’d ever imagined. For one, it was loads better than another tense holidays at home.

Another Christmas with Ross would have been nice, though.

But Ross had already come to visit Jim during fall break and they’d spent an awesome week together in Montpelier where Jim went to school. And it wouldn’t make sense for either of them to travel across the pond now that Jim’s time in France was just a few short weeks from over. So Jim had decided to use the time to explore Paris: get the cheapest accommodations he could find and spend a week wandering the streets and museums.

Jim untied his scarf and unbuttoned his sweater now that his body had absorbed enough heat from the room. The space, situated in attic of an older house, was small and was maybe a bit too cluttered with furniture, but it was exactly what Jim had needed and the couple that rented it out and occupied the rest of the flat was perfectly nice, even offering for Jim to join them for food or a glass of wine in the evenings. 

He tossed the scarf over the back of a desk chair and opened Skype to see if Ross was up yet. He was still piling up pillows in order to make himself comfortable when the app made the muted beep for an incoming message. 

“You there, Monet?” was all that had come through - enough to put a grin on Jim’s face. 

“Je suis here,” he wrote back and then caught the call as soon as Ross dialed him so that the sound wouldn’t disturb anyone’s sleep in the room around or below.

A second later, Ross was smiling at him drowsily from the screen, looking more attractive than anyone had the right to be when waking up way too early after a family Christmas party the night before. “Hey, you,” he said, voice rough from sleep. “How was Paris tonight?”

“Mostly empty and cold, but really nice,” Jim said, unable to stop smiling at the sight of a disheveled Ross. A longing ache unfurled in his chest; a desire to reach out through the screen and tuck in a few stray curls of his, then kiss down Ross' neck to his warm chest. He cleared his throat, pulling himself together. “I’m surprised you’re actually awake and coherent.”

Ross laughed. “I’m surprised too. But something showed up in the mail yesterday and I guess I’m too excited about opening it to let myself sleep in.” He reached past the edge of the screen and pulled a slim rectangle package into view. “Look what I got.”

Jim recognized it right away. “It made it on time? Wow, I wasn’t expecting that.” He looked from the box in Ross’ hands to his boyfriend’s face. “Are you going to open it later when your dad’s up?”

Now that Ross was in possession of Jim’s presents, Jim was strangely reluctant for Ross to open them. Or at least to be there while Ross was seeing them for the first time. 

Ross looked scandalized by the suggestion, though. “Heck no, I’m not waiting. I want to see it now.”

Jim laughed at the sight of his boyfriend’s impatience, biting nervously at his lip and hoping Ross didn’t pick up on it. “It’s not really a surprise. You kind of asked for this.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ross said. “But I really want to see what you’ve done.”

“Okay.” Ross’ excitement was infectious, and Jim did his best to shove the anxiety aside. It was pointless now anyway, and even if Ross didn’t like either of the things Jim had drawn, there was nothing Jim could do. “Well, I hope you like them, then.”

“Them?” Ross said, lifting his eyes to glance at Jim curiously from where he had already started to tear into the cardboard packaging, completely bypassing the easy-to-open strip in favor of brute force.

Jim hesitated. “I sort of did another thing, another drawing. Something a little different-”

“Oh,” said Ross, looking both thrilled and a little miffed. “Now I’m really ashamed I haven’t sent my present to you after all.”

Jim shrugged, placated that Ross was having misgivings of his own. “It’s really fine. I’m amazed mine is even on time. Plus, I’m away from school right now and I’ve got only a few weeks left, so…”

Ross nodded. “Well, you’ll have to be here to consume your present anyway, so I guess-“

“Consume?” Jim said, in confusion and mild alarm. “What exactly -“ 

“Shh,” Ross interrupted with a cheeky glint in his eyes. “No questions. I have an important present to open.”

Jim waited while Ross made short work of the box. Then there was rustling and ripping of tissue paper and the present lay open in front of Ross. A moment of silence followed, filled only with Jim’s anxious heartbeat.

“Oh. Oh, Jim, wow…”

Jim’s heart hammered harder as he stared at Ross’ face, trying to discern something more specific from Ross’ expression. But Ross’ face was bent down towards the little drawing of himself that Jim had made, at Ross’ own request; he seemed to be studying it intently.

“What do you think?” Jim ventured when he couldn’t bear it anymore. “It’s small, but-“

“It’s amazing.” Ross looked up, awe written all over his features. “Holy shit, Jim –“ He looked down again and Jim felt an explosion of giddiness go off somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach: fireworks set off by Ross’ reaction. It had felt a little vain to be drawing himself but it was what Ross had wanted and then Jim’s inspiration had taken a sudden turn which led him to combining the grid of a crystal with a watercolor portrait of himself.

“You like it?” he ventured, though Ross’ reaction hadn’t given him any reason to think the opposite. 

“This is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Ross proclaimed. “How did you even think of that? And these – embellishments? That’s – god, it’s flipping gorgeous.” He looked up, finally. “Thank you.”

Jim had to work hard to downgrade the silly grin that was trying to fight its way to his face, to keep his voice even. “It was weird to draw myself. I’m much more comfortable drawing you.” He hesitated before adding: “There’s one more thing in there that I made for you.”

Ross lifted the first drawing and removed the protective sheet of soft tissue paper that separated the two artworks. And then he went not just quiet but completely still, and that – that was very unusual for Ross Poldark indeed. 

The anxiety from earlier slammed back into Jim tenfold and he cringed at the idea of offending Ross with the second, unsolicited drawing he’d sent. He’d been wanting to do it for a while but now that it was finished and before Ross’ eyes awaiting judgment, he wasn’t so sure anymore that he hadn’t crossed some sort of a line. 

A few seconds passed, and Ross’ face remained lowered over the unwrapped gift, his expression obscured by his frizzy hair. 

“Ross?” Jim piped up, scraping his courage together to speak. “Is it too much? Maybe I shouldn’t have – without asking…“

Ross lifted his head and he looked distracted, as if for a second he’d been lost in some a memory, fantasy. “What? No!” 

Jim startled when he realized that Ross’ eyes were glistening. 

“Oh god, Ross, I’m sorry-“ he started hastily, but Ross interrupted him before he could get any further. 

“No! I’m–“ He swiped at his eyes with his hand. “Sorry, this is… I just didnt' expect that at all. How did you even remember what she looked like?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the second drawing.

Jim’s heart ached to see Ross the closest to undone he’s probably ever seen him. “I sort of snuck into your wallet during summer camp and took a picture of the photo of her you keep there?” he confessed. He felt heat rise into his cheeks at the admission. 

Ross stared at him at first and then gave an incredulous laugh. “You did? How long have you been planning this?!”

“I got the idea while we were camping in the spring, actually,” Jim said. “You’re not angry?”

“Angry?” Both of Ross’ eyebrows flew up. “Monet, that’s – hands down the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done–“ He paused, shrugging as if looking for words and then abandoning the attempt to find the perfect ones. “I miss her, you know? I think a lot about what she’d say when I do this or that, whenever something happens, and this is like – this is exactly like one of the moments I sometimes wish I could have. It’s exactly how I’d wish – the kind of picture I’d want –“

He swallowed and gave Jim a helpless smile that shook at the corners. Then he looked back down at the depiction of himself as he was now, an arm around the shoulders of the mom he’d lost years ago.

They were silent for a while, Jim wishing nothing more than to be in the same place as Ross and put his arms around him as well. His fiery boyfriend, the impulsive, hot-headed Ross, full of self-confidence that didn’t always extend below the surface. He wanted to wrap himself around Ross’ lean and lanky figure and spend the rest of the night pressed against him.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jim whispered finally. 

“’Like it’ doesn’t really do it justice,” Ross proclaimed, his voice a little on the rough side once more. “It’s brilliant.”

Relief flooded Jim, and a sense of pride for not having made a major blunder with the present. “So, what did you get me?” he said to lighten the mood. It seemed to have worked because Ross gave him a knowing look. “Just because I’m having a moment doesn’t mean I’m going to blab. You’ll see in three weeks. Though I might have more important things than late Christmas presents on my mind when you finally make it back.”

“I’m sure we can manage what’s on your mind AND my presents,” Jim laughed, a pang of intense want going through him at the thought of reuniting with Ross. If the way they'd jumped on one another after Ross' arrival to France was any indication, it might prove impossible to think at all for the first day before they got certain things out of their system.

“Verity doubts that we’ll emerge from my room for a few days,” Ross informed Jim dryly, as if reading his mind. “She is already making plans to sleep on a friend’s couch for a few days after you get here.”

Jim snorted. “Is she going to change her mind about me living with you all?”

“Nah, she won’t… She is mostly being funny, though if she did stay away for a few days, I think it might be a good thing.”

Jim laughed. “I think I might have to agree.” His eyes met Ross’ and the look that passed between them was at first amused, before quickly turning into something else, something full of want and longing. “I also might be counting down the days.”

“So am I,” Ross grinned. “It’s been too long since October.”

“Yeah.” Jim missed Ross so much sometimes, it was like a physical ache he carried around everywhere. “We’ll make up for it, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, we will.” Ross grinned and then promptly yawned, and that reminded Jim of how early it was for him after a late night out. 

“How was the party yesterday?” he asked. 

“It was a good reminder of why me and dad try to avoid the Poldark Christmas bash like the plague.” Ross ran a hand through his hair, rendering it messier when he was done with it. “And I’m afraid it lived up to my expectations and then some.”

Jim made a sympathetic grimace. “What happened?”

Ross seemed to hesitate, then shrugged. “For one, Verity brought up moving in with Andrew next summer and that didn’t go over well with uncle Charles and Francis. Then dad and uncle had a lovely active-aggressive exchange after significantly fewer glasses of punch than usual, and to top it off, Elizabeth ambushed me in the bathroom and tried to kiss me.”

It took Jim a moment to process Ross’ hectic summary of the night before. Once he was done processing, however, he found himself only capable of reacting to the last part. “She did what??”

Ross took a deep breath. “Yeah. She’d had a bit too much to drink, so luckily, she missed, but it was fucking awkward…”

“What is she doing, though? Didn't you say she and Francis were serious?”

Ross made a face. “They're supposed to be, and ironically, Elizabeth's mother was at the party too and kept on dropping hints about an impending engagement. Meanwhile Elizabeth was telling me how Francis isn’t really as great as she’d thought and that she could transfer to my university next year if I wanted her to, and –“ Ross shook his head, looking bewildered. “It was fucking bizarre.”

“Transfer to - Christ.” A deep sense of apprehension filled Jim at the idea of Elizabeth coming to study at their Alma mater, especially if she still seemed to harbor an attraction towards Ross. “If you wanted her to? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I told her she’s out of her mind. And she knows you and I have been dating - I told her I’m not planning on changing that just because she decided three years later that my scarred face doesn’t bother her anymore.”

“Fuck.” Jim wasn’t sure what to say for a moment besides that very eloquent remark, not willing to insult a person that he didn’t even know but very much wanting to. Ross, meanwhile, seemed to interpret Jim’s curse and the following silence as either upset or withdrawal or both – and he would have the right to do so, too, if some of Jim’s less proud moments in the past were anything to go by. He frowned, squinting at Jim with worry. 

“Are you angry? Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything…”

“No, I'm not angry.” Jim had to force the words past the lingering apprehension in his throat, making himself think rationally about the situation. He couldn't change what had happened, and it wasn't that much all in all. And besides, Ross had told him, which was what mattered the most. “I mean, I'm a bit angry with her for doing that when she knows you're with someone. It must have been really fucking weird for you.”

“Let’s just say dad and I left shortly after, even though this was not quite the excuse for leaving I’d been hoping for.” Ross gave a rueful smile. “And frankly, it's a relief to tell you, you’re the only person I think I could tell at all without some major family drama resulting from it. Though it’s probably not very much fun for you to hear, I assume.”

“Not really, I have to say," Jim replied; this time the words came easier due to the dash of amusement he couldn’t help but inject in them. “But it’s not like you asked for it. And then… after that one thing, we said that we’d tell each other things. So.” The memory of the temporary communication breakdown that had followed after Jim’s relationship with his dad had imploded last spring still smarted, thought the two of them had come through stronger. “I’m glad you told me.”

“Ok.” Ross still sounded a bit subdued, but a note of lightness stole back into his voice once more as he spoke Jim’s nickname to get his attention.

“What?” Jim said.

“Nothing, just… can’t wait to see you.”

“You’re seeing me now,” Jim teased, smiling full-on this time.

“True,“ Ross acknowledged. “In that case, I can’t wait to be able to do a whole lot more to you than just see you.”

“That makes two of us,” Jim said, and then watched with amusement as Ross' smoldering gaze got completely over-ridden by a wide yawn. 

Ross checked the time in the corner of his computer's screen. “It’s really late for you, you should go to bed.”

“I am in bed,” Jim pointed out. 

“Smart-ass,” Ross chuckled. “Wish you were in mine.”

“So do I. Soon, though.” They exchanged another look and Jim almost wanted to throw caution to the wind and force away the apprehension he still felt about the two of them having sex over skype.

Ross didn’t push though. “Let me know once you have your ticket so that I can tell Verity when to move out temporarily,” he winked. “And now go to sleep. You have a lot of art to ingest over the next few days.” 

“Yeah, a bit of a marathon,” Jim laughed. “I guess I should get a bit of rest for that.”

“You should and I’ll steal another hour of sleep too, I think. I can still hear dad snore from his bedroom.” Ross gave another yawn as he shuffled the gifted drawings on his desk to the side with care. “Is it okay if I show these to him?”

Jim nodded, the anxiety from earlier gone now that he knew Ross liked them. “Sure, go ahead. They’re yours now.”

“Okay. Well, good night, and tell Paris that I’m jealous you’re spending Christmas there and not with me.”

Jim laughed, feeling lighter and happier than in a long time. “You’re the only thing Paris is missing to be perfect.” It was ridiculous how much he wanted to just jump through the screen and devour Ross and also how much he just wanted to fall asleep right next to him. 

"Too bad for Paris, then," Ross said. "Merry Christmas, Monet."

“Merry Christmas, Ross.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have just realized I have made a rather significant timezone mistake in this chapter :D :D :D Apparently I am a fic writer of very little brain. I don't have time to fix it at this point, so I'm going to blame it on my sleep-deprived brain and ask you all to please ignore it :D
> 
> thanks for reading :)) I've struggled a lot with the main story this year and almost abandoned/deleted it, but then the idea came to check in with these two as a way to show what's in the cards for them in the future. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed - drop me a note if you did!


	2. A Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sudden change of plans means another Christmas apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set a year later - in Jim’s 3rd and Ross’ 4th year of college. 
> 
> Both Jim’s and Ross’ families have seen some changes, some more abrupt and some long in the making.

“Jim! Your phone’s ringing!” Mrs. Hawkins shouted through the bathroom door. “It’s Ross!”

Jim cursed. He’d just slathered shampoo onto his hair and was getting ready to rinse it out; he thought he’d have more time before Ross’ promised call. Normally he’d let it go to voicemail, but today…

“Can you answer it?” he yelled over the water’s spray. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

“Sure,” his mom replied, a tone of mild astonishment evident in her voice. Jim had never asked her to do that, to be fair, but she knew what was going on and that Jim had been preoccupied about Ross all morning while they’d been out.

The ringing ceased and Jim could hear his mother walking away from the bathroom’s door, announcing herself into Jim’s phone at the same time. He hurried to wash the soap out, a symbolic amount of conditioner going in next. He’d probably pay for skimping on it later with static electricity from hell, but that didn’t matter now.

Twenty seconds later, he shut off the water and reached for his towel, mentally accounting for his scattered clothing. He yanked all the pieces on over still mostly damp skin.

His mother’s clear voice was easily traced to the kitchen where she and Tessa were currently occupied with Christmas Eve dinner and where Jim’s own part of the work awaited him. He strode in, anxious to take over the phone call, and found his mom smiling at something Ross must have just said.

“Ah, there he is,” she trilled when she spotted Jim. “That was the fastest shower of Jim’s on record, usually he’s there for at least twenty minutes.”

“I’d rather not know why…” Tessa smirked, then glanced at Jim from where she was peeling potatoes over the sink. “Um, you still have conditioner in your hair, brother.”

“Ah, really?” Jim swiped at his hair and his hand came off soapy. “Shit. I’ll take care of that later.” He turned to his mother expectantly but she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to hand Ross over to him.

“We wish you could have made it too, Ross, but of course you have to be with your family right now,” she was saying, her voice all sympathy. “Though I hope we’ll see you for a little bit before you guys head up to the cabin.”

“Jim’s been ridiculous!” Tessa called loud enough so that Ross could hear. “He misses you so much it’s sickening!”

“Oh, shut up,” Jim poked her in the side and she turned around, brandishing her potato peeler as she squinted at him.

“I’m armed and dangerous, bro, better watch out.”

“Gee, Tess, don’t poke my eye out,” Jim exclaimed, taking a step back hastily and nearly tripping over a stool with a bunch of cookbooks stacked on it. The open one on top fell on the floor with a thud.

Mrs. Hawkins shook her head at them with exasperation and fondness. Ross must have asked her what the commotion was because a moment later she remarked into the phone: “Ah, just the two of them happy to be with me for Christmas and trying to show it by insulting each other and destroying the kitchen. There’s hasn’t been any blood since this morning though so we’re good.” After a short pause during which Jim could just make out Ross' voice speaking, she clarified: “Oh yes, blood was drawn just this morning, when we went out ice skating and they ended up crashing into each other. A finger got cut a little.”

“It was my finger and it was Jim’s fault,” Tessa pointed out loudly. “Because he has no balance-“

“You pushed me from behind,” Jim retorted. “And a) you weren’t wearing gloves, and b) you started it, so it serves you right.”

“Yeah, because you were staring off into the distance, probably at a Ross-shaped cloud, thinking about how much you miss your his face or –“

“As you can hear, the Christmas spirit is strong here,” Jim’s mom spoke over the both of them. “Peace and love all around.”

“Okay, can I speak to my boyfriend now please?” Jim extended a hand towards her again. “You don’t have to tell Ross everything, you know.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Mrs. Hawkins said innocently, then relinquished the phone after a quick goodbye to Ross. Jim took it, threw a dirty look at Tessa and walked back to his room, shutting the door to be able to speak to Ross in private.

“Hey, Ross,” he said. “Sorry about that, mom and Tess are being ridiculous.”

On the other end of the line, Ross sounded amused.

“That’s alright, Monet. That was actually highly entertaining.”

Hearing his voice eased the lurking anxiety Jim’s felt all morning. “Was it? I don’t know, my sister seems to be trying to squeeze every bit of teenagedom out of her life before turning twenty. But I think she’s managed to regress all the way to thirteen.”

Ross laughed, and that erased an even bigger chunk of Jim’s worry. “That sucks. I hope you can make it through New Years’ with her.”

“Is it too late to take back her invitation to the cabin?” Jim said hopefully, and Ross laughed again.

“If she’s torturing you now, I can’t imagine it’d get better if you told her she can’t go.”

“Yeah, true.” Jim sighed, though mostly for show – he did love Tessa and was excited she and her friend could join them for the trip. But she was also an expert in pushing his buttons and he really hoped she’d tone it down for the upcoming week in the mountains. At least in front of all the others, since along with Ross and Jim, Dwight, Caroline, Verity, and Andrew would also be there.

But he didn’t want to focus on his sister now. “So, how are things?" he asked. "Are you home from the funeral?”

“Yeah, we just got back a little while ago.” Now that Ross’ laughter had subsided, Jim could detect a note of tiredness in his voice.

“You okay?” Jim asked. “I know you didn’t exactly see eye to eye with your uncle, but-“

“Yeah, I’m okay. I mean, he could be a bastard sometimes but it’s still fucking awful that he’s gone.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jim bit his lip, struggling with how to put his empathy into words. “I’m sorry. How’s Verity?”

“Not so good… She was pretty torn up about the fact that she and uncle had a row just a week before he died and hadn’t made up in between, but…” Ross sighed. “Us cousins are getting drunk tonight so my main objective while any of us are still coherent is to talk her out of any guilt about that.”

Jim’s heart ached for them all. “That’s nice of you. I mean, she couldn’t have known he’d go so suddenly… And it’s not her fault that her father wanted to dictate her life. But that doesn’t change the fact that he was her father.”

He thought briefly of his own dad, and how he’d feel if anything happened to him before – if – they ever resolved their problems. Especially since this year, their relationship had reached a new level of both icy and explosive.

“Give her a hug from me,” Jim added. “I mean, I’ll see her at the cabin, but…”

“I will.” Ross sounded drowsy now but a smile came through on his voice. “I could use one too if you have any left in stock, Monet.”

“I happen to have a large shipment arriving in about three days,” Jim attempted a light tone. “But I’m sending a mental one for now.” He paused. “I wish I could have been there with you for this.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Ross said. “Though I hope your mom wasn’t too disappointed that I had to change our plans.”

“She understands,” Jim assured him. “Maybe it’ll work out some other year - it’ll be easier, now, I suppose.”

“Yeah. Your mom sounded pretty cheerful, is she doing okay?” Ross asked.

“Actually, yeah, she seems great,” Jim said. “I was afraid she’d just been putting on a front while Tessa and I were at school so that we wouldn’t worry, but she looks like she's doing fine. She seems actually – happier?”

“Hm,” Ross said thoughtfully. “I don’t know, all things considered I guess that’s not really a surprise…”

“I guess not,” Jim agreed. “I just wasn’t sure – they were married for so long, I wasn’t sure she would do okay living on her own. But she seems to be doing alright.”

“Is she dating anyone?” Ross asked.

“Oh god, I haven’t even thought of that…  She hasn’t mentioned anything or anyone.” Jim was a little bewildered at the idea, not having entertained that thought yet after his parent’s separation. “Has you dad dated at all?”

“Not while I was still at home,” Ross said, and then snickered. “I know since then he’s had… liaisons, but he’s never brought anyone to meet me officially.”

“God, this is going to be interesting yet, isn’t it,” Jim groaned. “This parents dating thing. Maybe we should set the two of them up on a date?”

Ross barked a laugh, and Jim could just picture him: head thrown back, all his features taken over by the onslaught of mirth. It was gratifying to hear Ross laugh like that even on a somber day like today, and to be the cause of it.

“That could be a fun experiment for one day,” Ross said when the outburst passed. “I guess they’ve never even met before, we could start with that.”

There was a soft sound that told Jim Ross had probably just collapsed onto a couch or an armchair, and it was followed by a groan. “Ugh, I’m exhausted, Monet. Could you please teleport here so I can sleep on you? If you’re not busy right now…”

Ross’ wish filled Jim with an unbearable ache. “I promised I’d help with dinner but I’m sure mom and Tessa will understand.” He shifted on the bed, the need to hold Ross almost physical. “I’ll see you in three days, though, and then you can sleep on me every day and every night.”

“Your sister might have something to say about that,” Ross pointed out.

“My sister can kindly eff off,” Jim replied good-naturedly before real concern for Ross took over. “Is it really a good idea for you to go drinking tonight if you’re that tired?”

“Probably not,” Ross conceded, his voice sounding fuzzier and fainter as if he was starting to drift off. “But I promised.”

“Well, it’s a tough one to cancel,” Jim said. He could hear Ross’ heavy inhales and exhales on the other end and it made him want to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s taller frame so that he could feel them too. “Where are you?” he asked softly.

“In the den,” Ross replied, even his speech slurring a little. “I’ve fallen into the couch and I’m still wearing the suit I wore to the funeral, which is probably not a good idea.”

Jim smiled at the mental image. “Who cares?”

“My dad, I suppose.” Ross let out a small chuckle. “Though probably not today, come to think of it.”

“Yeah, probably not. But it doesn’t sound very comfortable.” Jim didn’t want to let Ross go just yet, but he seemed to need rest and Jim's worry had been lifted a little by their conversation so there was no need to prolong it. “Why don’t you go take a nap and maybe call me later?” he suggested.

“Hmm, good plan.” Ross agreed. No sound on his end seemed to indicate that he was getting up from the couch, though. Instead, he tried valiantly to keep the conversation going for a bit longer. “What are you doing with your Christmas Eve, Monet? Besides cooking and skating and getting annoyed by your sister, that is.”

“I think it’ll be just us three eating a lot of food, and later we’re going to go drive around to see Christmas lights and eat some more.”

“Sounds fantastic,” Ross said. “Is it okay if I call you tomorrow, then? When I’m sober?”

“Yeah, sure, but promise you won’t overdo the drinking tonight? Or punch Francis? Or throw anyone over a pool table?”

“That’s a lot to ask,” Ross snorted. “But I’ll try.” There was a moment’s silence and Jim began to wonder if Ross had finally drifted off when his boyfriend spoke out again.

“Love you, Jim." It was quiet but it made Jim's heart melt just the same, even if this wasn't the first time they'd said the words. Then Ross added: "I’m gonna be cashing in on those hugs as soon as possible, so be ready.”

“I’m ready now,” Jim assured him. “I love you too, Ross.”

He hung up just in case Ross wouldn’t manage it. Then, before he could think too much about the fact that his sister was right, that he really did miss Ross being here a ridiculous amount, he slid off the bed and left the room. There was Christmas Eve dinner to be made, and the mental image of his tired boyfriend sleeping in a suit was likely to sustain Jim for the rest of the day.


	3. In Sickness and Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are heading to Ross' father for Christmas, and things don't go as they'd hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last year at school for both Jim and Ross.

The first sign that something might be off was when Ross asked Jim to take over the driving an hour and a half earlier than agreed.

Jim put on quiet music and steered the car along the highway through descending twilight. Soon it was completely dark outside and Ross’ face was covered in shadows where he’d bundled himself up in his coat; when Jim asked him if he was not feeling well, he mumbled that he probably just needed to sleep off a starting cold.

But by the time they’d completed the six-hour road trip from school to Ross’ hometown, it was crystal clear that whatever he was coming down with was much more than that.

Jim had never been to Ross’ home before and had no idea where he was going, but he decided not to wake Ross as they approached his hometown. The navigation could do the job of getting them there just fine and Ross seemed to be sleeping. Finding the place was not hard anyway: Jim was soon pulling onto a tree-lined street and parking in front of an older two-story house, behind a jeep already sitting there.

When he turned off the engine, Ross didn’t seem to even realize. Jim frowned and gave Ross’ shoulder a gentle shake, turning on the little triangle light above his head in order to see better.

Ross’ appearance startled him. His skin looked pale and his lips, partly open, were cracked and dry; when Jim pressed fingers to Ross’ forehead, it was scorching hot.

“Ross, we’re here,” he said quietly. “You alright?”

Ross shuddered at the touch of Jim’s cooler hand and then seemed to shrink further into his coat. He opened his eyes, blinking into the light with a frown.

“Oh shit, dad’s going to kill me…” He turned to look up at the house on their right, lifting an eyebrow a smidge as he took in the rather random Christmas lights that adorned it. “Oh wow, looks like dad went all out on your account.”

Jim ducked his head in order to see past Ross. “Looks nice,” he said. “More than my dad ever did, in any case. I feel honored.”

“You should be,” Ross assured him. “Last time dad did this I was probably ten.” He coughed, moaning low in his throat at the jolting discomfort of it.

Jim huffed with concern. “Come on, we should get you inside.”

Ross’ face was green-tinged when they stepped into the porchlight, and he wobbled a bit on his feet after knocking on the door. “My whole body aches,” he said. “God, I don’t want to be fucking sick, not now...”

“Let’s just get you to bed for tonight and then see how you feel in the morning.” Jim was trying to sounds comforting, but if he was honest with himself, Ross looked like a textbook case of flu symptoms – the sudden onset, the body aches, the chills, the fever…

It was hard to drum up any comfort at all.

The door opened and Joshua Poldark appeared, the wild hair he shared with his son tamed back for once and a grin stretching his mouth at the sight of Ross and Jim.

“Hey, you two, I was wondering when–“ he began in a loud and boisterous voice, but then he registered the state of his son and his expression quickly turned into slight alarm. “Ross? What’s the matter?”

Ross looked up at his dad from under heavy eyelids. “I, um, I think I might be getting a little sick…”

Ross’ dad walked out onto the porch and put his arm around Ross’ shoulders to support him from the other side. He glanced up, giving Jim a quick nod of greeting. “Good to see you again, Jim. How was the drive?”

“Great,” Jim nodded back. “Though Ross’ has been like this for the last few hours and I’m pretty sure he’s got a fever.”

“Sorry, dad, not exactly the Christmas gift I was hoping to bring you,” Ross grunted as they guided him into the living room and towards the couch.

“Yeah, you can keep the germs to yourself.” Mr. Poldark helped Ross sit down and then surveyed him with a critical gaze. He touched his forehead, a dissatisfied scowl on his face. “You sure are pretty warm there.”

Jim took off his jacket and folded it over his own arm, hovering uncertainly by the door now that Ross was in his father’s hands.

“Toss that coat on that bench over there, Jim,” Ross’ dad walked past him on the way to the kitchen, which Jim could just glimpse through an arched entrance on the other side of the front entrance. “And make yourself at home. I’m just going to see what I have for fever medicine so that I can bring his temperature down a bit.”

“Sure, thanks.” Jim got rid himself of the coat and unlaced his boots to slip out of them. Then he went to sit down next to Ross.

“I feel like shit,” Ross confessed, barely opening an eye when he registered Jim’s weight on the couch next to him.

“You sort of look like shit, no offense,” Jim says.

“Thanks, Monet. Don’t sugarcoat it or anything…” Ross chuckled and then broke into a dry cough. “Hey, do you think you could you ask dad if he has some hot tea? Or water? I’m thirsty as hell…”

“Sure, hold on.”

Jim found Mr. Poldark in the kitchen, cabinets thrown open as he rummaged through a multitude of medicine containers. He looked up when he heard footsteps, and smiled. “Hey, Jim, need something? Is he alright in there?”

“Yeah, just asking if you have hot tea or something else to drink.” Jim hovered by the entrance, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

“There’s some black tea above the fridge and might even have fresh lemons.” Mr. Poldark nodded towards the counter behind him. “Would you mind putting some water in the kettle and starting it? I’ll take him some water for now, as soon as I find some ibuprofen that hasn’t expired.”

“Ok.” Jim was glad to have a task; as he was filling the kettle, Mr. Poldark exclaimed “aha!” and headed back to Ross, armed with a bottle of water and a packet of red pills.

Jim briefly considered taking the liberty to look around for tea and mugs himself, but that seemed a bit too far into the ‘mi casa su casa’ territory for having arrived just three minutes ago. Knowing it’d be awkward to ask and awkward not to, he returned to the living room where Ross was just being helped out of his jacket and bundled into a fleece blanket. When he was sufficiently covered, Mr. Poldark sat back and took another good look at his son.

“If I didn’t know better,” he stated, “I’d say you’re coming down with the flu, kid.”

He sounded unhappy about that, and Ross unhappier still when he ventured a sideways look at his dad and said: “So, I sort of haven’t had the shot yet this year.”

Jim had stopped on the tiles before the main door, and now he felt like backtracking as Mr. Poldark inclined his head, looking flabbergasted. “Ross, are you serious?”

“I totally forgot…” Ross croaked, apologetic. “There was just a lot going on with the council and my master’s thesis and…”

“Ross, it takes five flipping minutes to go to the clinic in town and I know they have flu shot drives.” Disapproval radiated off Ross’ father in waves and Jim found himself chewing on his lip, startled by the strong reaction. “Really, Ross, I thought we had a deal, it’s the _one_ _thing_ -“

“I know, dad.” Ross sounded small suddenly, and looked as if he wanted to dissolve into the couch and melt out of sight. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, too late now I guess, look at you…” Ross’ dad shook his head, suddenly looking older and much more worried than five minutes ago. He rubbed his forehead with his fingers as if trying to dispel an oncoming headache. “Dammit, kid…”

It took one more second before realization hit Jim full on as to why Ross missing his flu shot would be such a big deal.

But as it did, he blanched and retreated back into the kitchen, making as little noise as possible. Not caring about guest etiquette anymore, he made himself busy looking for tea bags and mugs and the aforementioned lemons, all the while trying not to think of the fact that Ross’ mom had died of pneumonia brought on by the flu and how Ross potentially getting sick with it had to bring back the worst of memories for both of them.

Ross’ dad came in a moment later and Jim shrank back from the cabinet he’d been reaching into, nearly knocking a box of cereal over. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said quickly. “I figured I’d look for the tea – is that okay?”

Ross’ dad gave him a gruff smile, waving a hand to dismiss Jim’s worry. “Of course, thanks for the help. I haven’t even had time to properly greet you, with Ross showing up as sick as a dog-“

“No, that’s fine, really,” Jim assured him. “Just let me know how I can help.”

“You’re already helping.” Mr. Poldark fetched honey from the pantry and a fished a lone lemon out of the fruit bowl. “You want to make a tea for yourself too? I see you found the mugs.”

They worked in silence, Jim unwilling to disrupt the uneasy air that seemed to surround Ross’ dad. When the teabags were finally submerged in a set of steaming mugs, Jim pointed towards the door. “I suppose I should go get our things from the car, where should I put them?”

Mr. Poldark pondered that for a second. “I was going to put you both up in Ross’ old room, but seeing as he’s sick, maybe you should stay in the spare bedroom. At least until Ross goes to the doctor tomorrow and we know for a fact what we’re dealing with...”

“I don’t mind staying in the same room. That way I can keep an eye on him at night.”

“I suppose,” Mr. Poldark nodded thoughtfully. “Though the last thing we need is for you to get sick as well.” He raised an eyebrow at Jim.

“I’ll be fine.” Jim didn’t exactly want to disclose that he hadn’t had the flu vaccine either, so he headed back out into the crispy-cold night to bring both of their things back into the house. Ross’ dad was now carrying the tea upstairs so that he could get Ross settled in his bed and Jim followed, setting their bags at the foot of Ross’ bed and waiting for Ross to come up as well.

He used the moment to take a look around Ross’ room: for a space no one lived in for most of the year, it felt as if its occupant had only left the day before. There was an open book on the desk, a bunch of rocks sitting on top of it; magazines were tossed in a pile on the floor and a sweatshirt over the back of the desk chair. One wall was dominated by photos of Ross and his dad from family trips, from exotic places and from the camp Ross’ dad ran out west, but there were also snapshots from Ross’ childhood: little bright-eyed Ross sitting on his mother’s lap on a train, the three of them on a hike when Ross must have been about eight or nine, a toddler Ross digging in the sand on a beach.

Jim smiled at the adorable sight. He could see the future Ross in the little boy’s face - in the shape of his eyes, in the wispy, curly hair peeking out from under a straw hat.

The real Ross appeared a moment later in the door frame, looking wrecked from just climbing the stairs. He nearly face-planted onto the bed and it took the two of them to wrestle him under the blanket. “We’ll help you into some other clothes when the fever’s gone down,” Ross’ dad said. “Jim, if you want some food, come downstairs in a little bit, yeah? I’ve made a casserole for dinner but this one -“ he gestured towards Ross – “says he doesn’t have any appetite.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute,” Jim said. “Thanks.”

Once they were alone, Jim crawled up onto the bed and Ross peeked up at him through one partly open eye, the blankets almost up to his nose. “Sorry, Monet. This is not how I was hoping this trip would go.”

“You weren’t planning to get sick?” Jim asked, allowing himself a slight tease.

“Haha.” Ross made a face and then coughed again, turning away from Jim for a moment. “You don’t mind hanging out alone with my dad while I sweat my ass off and look generally gross?”

“I’m fine,” Jim reassure him. In reality the idea of hanging out solely with Mr. Poldark was a bit intimidating. He’d known Ross’ dad for two years now, even had worked for him at the camp out west for two summers, but he had been hoping it’d be the three of them doing things over the next week, not just Jim and Mr. Poldark.

But with Ross looking like he could be getting pretty sick, Jim’s social anxiety was hardly the thing to worry about right now.

Ross fell asleep shortly, and Jim had no choice but to go downstairs if he wanted to silence the plaintive noises in his stomach as well as not appear rude. He found Ross’ dad in the kitchen again and as soon as he saw Jim, he handed him a beer and a heaping plate of food. They ate in the dining room and Jim helped with clean up; before he knew it, they were on beer number two and back in the living room, Ross’ dad continuing a story about the exploits of Ross and his cousins when they were kids and pulling out a box of old photos as proof.

It turned out to be a surprisingly cozy evening, Jim laughing at Ross’ antics and sharing some of his own. They both checked on Ross before turning in for the night; he was running hot again and hissed when Jim’s dad put a hand on his forehead.

“Jesus, Ross, try not to set the room on fire,” Ross’ dad huffed. “I’ll bring you more ibuprofen to take later, but this doesn’t look so great for you. Might be just me and Jim at the Poldark party tomorrow.”

Ross made a displeased face. “I mean, I could go and infect them all with the flu,” he said, sounding hoarse. “Especially some people.”

“Right,” Ross’ dad chuckled. “You look scary enough, I’ll give you that, but we don’t have to resort to biological weapons just yet. Me and Jim can handle the lot – what do you think, Jim? Plus, Verity’s bringing Andrew for the first time for the Holidays so I think we should give her some moral support in case Francis has his feathers all ruffled.”

Put this way, the suggestion was impossible to refuse. And though the idea of going to the party without Ross sounding hardly more appealing than getting the flu himself, Jim did want to see Ross’ cousin and her no longer secret fiancée. “We should do that, yeah.”

“Fantastic.” Mr. Poldark stood up, making Ross hiss in protest as the mattress shook. “It’s the doctor for you tomorrow, son, and I guess me and Jim will have to cook and eat all the food and drink all the beer on our own.” 

Ross made a barely audible sound of protest. “Not fair...”

“You’ll catch up when you’re feeling better.” Mr. stopped at the door, surveying Ross one last time with barely covered-up concern. “Let me know if you need anything, you two, I’m just down the hall, Jim.”

Jim wished him good night, and then the door closed and they were alone.

“Christ,” Ross rasped and he seemed to sink further into his blankets in shame. “I’ve really fucked this up…”

“Well, at least you’re sick here and not at school.” It was poor consolation, and Jim knew it.

Ross wasn’t done beating himself up, either. “I feel like I’m throwing you to the wolves tomorrow, sending you to that party without me. Elizabeth will be there and her parents too. And Verity said George might be show up as well, apparently he and Francis are tight these days… Are you sure you’re up for it?”

Jim was not pleased by the update to the guest list. “George is going to be there?”

“Possibly, I don’t know…” Ross trailed off. His voice was now reduced to a whisper and his breath seemed short. “You really don’t have to go, you don’t owe it to anyone.”

“We’ll see.” Besides already telling Ross’ dad that he’d go, a promise he’d rather not go back on, Jim realized that the thought of running into George at the party brought a wave of defiance rather than dread.

He turned out the light on his side of the bed, wondering exactly how different this Christmas would be from the one he’d imagined.

 

Christmas Eve morning brought a confirmation of Ross’ flu by an urgent care doctor. Along with the steak and mashed potatoes Ross’ dad had planned for their early, pre-party dinner, Jim and he cooked a large pot of chicken noodle soup as well. Ross had crashed on the downstairs couch by the Christmas tree upon their return from the doctor and stayed there all day, only joining them for five minutes during dinner. He managed to be upright for five minutes before coughing his way back to the couch, disappearing under a layer of blankets once more.

He was a miserable sight.

He spent most of the time sleeping, so Jim helped with cooking and dishes through the day. The kitchen which had only the night before seemed awkwardly unfamiliar was quickly becoming a much more natural habitat, and though Ross’ dad wasn’t extremely chatty, he and Jim soon settled into easy conversations.

Ross’ fever kept coming back as soon as the medicine wore off and Ross’ dad had misgivings about leaving Ross even for the two hours they needed to make a decent appearance at the party, but in the end they made sure Ross had everything he might need within reach and went. Jim had misgivings of his own, not sure if he was ready to be presented as Ross’ boyfriend to the extended family and possibly contend with George on top of that, but the defiant side of him won over and he said bye to Ross by kissing his hot, dry forehead before heading out the door.

“Give them hell, Monet,” Ross mumbled, and Jim smiled at that.

“Don’t worry I shall,” he assured him. “And you behave yourself here.”

“I’m going to throw my own party as soon as you two leave,” Ross croaked, and somehow that statement reassured Mr. Poldark more than anything else.

“Throw up, more like it,” he remarked to Jim at the door, and sadly, Jim had to agree. Ross didn’t look good, but there was nothing else they could do for him right now.

The party was in full swing by the time they appeared. Jim’s stomach was tied in a knot, but his stubborn side didn’t let him down: for the next hour or more, he bore the incessant introductions and small talk with a lot more resilience than he thought he was capable of. He promptly forgot everyone’s names, though not some of the expressions he was met with when several people realized that he was indeed Ross’ boyfriend. Mr. Poldark stuck to Jim’s side the entire time, whispering snide comments to Jim at inopportune moments, and Jim noticed that any shocked or offended expressions wilted quickly under Ross’ dad’s piercing gaze.

George was nowhere to be seen. As they progressed through the party, Jim was able to make two observations: for one, with the exception of the people he already knew, he truly didn’t care what anyone else there thought about him, and for two, that he liked Ross’ dad more and more with each second. The effect Joshua Poldark had on other people amused him, even though he’d once been slightly intimidated by his charismatic personality himself.

At one point, Verity ambushed Jim and dragged him into a smaller room to the side where she and Andrew and a few of Verity’s friends were drinking mostly undisturbed. Jim was grateful; there was food and good company and he could avoid the sight of Elizabeth who had already walked past him several times, showing off her engagement ring and patting her burgeoning pregnant belly anytime someone would so much as look in her direction. Ross’ dad had introduced them earlier but steered Jim away before they could all exchange more than two words, and that was okay with all of them, Jim was convinced.

Ross, however, failed to respond to the message Jim had sent him an hour into the party, and that set Jim’s nerves on too much of an edge; he drank the next glass of whatever fancy cocktail Andrew supplied him with a bit too fast. Ross was probably asleep, Jim tried telling himself as he faked paying attention to whatever story Verity’s high school friend was reiterating. Besides, Ross’ dad had said they wouldn’t stay much longer anyway, and Jim was suddenly itching to go.

In the end, there was no escaping George: Jim met him just as he was saying goodbye to Francis and Verity in the house’s impressive foyer, waiting for Ross’ dad to disentangle himself from the clutches of an older aunt. The front door opened and George strode in as if he owned the house, a brown-haired, heavily made-up girl on his arm.

George looked around the people gathered there and as his and Jim’s eyes met, his smug smile turned to a sneer.

“George, finally!” Francis said, not noticing. “I thought you’d forgotten where we live!”

“I was going to apologize for being late, but now I see I’ve arrived just in time,” George said, shrugging out of a fancy coat and sizing Jim up, clearly pleased that Jim seemed to be leaving. “You have an interesting guest list this year, Francis. And where’s your cousin?”

“Ross is sick.” Francis took George’s coat and instead of tossing it over one of the chairs, already heaped high with other visitor’s coats, he took the pains of hanging it up in the closet.

“What a shame,” George said, impassive, but his lip curled up a little higher. “It seems that he’s brought his favorite toy home this year – how nice! If I’d known, I’d bring the Harrys along, and we could have remembered the good old university times…”

Ross’ dad arrived just in time to see Jim roll his eyes.

“Do you ever take a break from being a twat, George? You should try it, it’s Christmas.” Jim zipped up his coat and tied his scarf around his neck rather quickly, just in case he might be tempted to strangle George with it. “Either way, you should go taunt someone who cares.”

George didn’t seem willing to offer his usual type of reply in front of Ross’ father, and Jim turned away before that could change. He hugged Verity and promised to give her an update on Ross as soon as they got home, then shook hands with Francis. He knew from the look on Mr. Poldark face that he hadn’t missed the dynamic between the two of them, and he was pretty sure he knew what the conversation would revolve around during their upcoming ride home.

 

Mr. Poldark didn’t ask about George on the way back, though. Jim was grateful; after the buzz of the busy party and the number of pretentious people he’d had to meet, the quiet in the car was a welcome change. Ross’ dad stared intently at the road ahead, probably worried about the state they’d find Ross in and Jim shared the sentiment: checking his phone repeatedly had failed to produce a message from Ross about how he was feeling and he couldn’t help but worry as well.

The reason for the silence revealed itself when they got back to the house. Ross was fast asleep on the couch, looking exactly as they had left him except for the rattling snores coming from his mouth, and he mumbled a confused greeting when his dad roused him to check on him.

“Hazzit already been that long?” he said, and went straight back to sleep after dutifully taking a drink from a mug of reheated tea.

Ross’ dad lit the fireplace and they watched a tribute to Leonard Bernstein on TV, the volume set to low so that Ross’ sleep wouldn’t be disturbed. Halfway through, Jim brought up George himself halfway through the show and Ross’ dad poured them both a whisky as he launched into recounting what he knew about Ross’ and George’s high school clashes. It was both enlightening and amusing, and it reminded Jim again how close Ross and his dad were if Mr. Poldark knew all the details. Having no such relationship with his own father felt all the more bitter for it, but for once Jim shut the sentiment off for the time being. It did no good to dwell on it anyway.

They transferred the patient upstairs shortly before midnight, dosed up on meds once more and in a fresh shirt, and Jim wrapped his arms around Ross when the room went dark. He could feel the other student shiver and shake in the cool sheets.

“So, you survived the Poldark craziness?” Ross whispered, his teeth chattering at intervals as the blankets slowly warmed up with their body heat.

“I did,” Jim chuckled into Ross’ shoulder. “But I won’t be sorry if I don’t ever have to go again.”

Ross grunted in agreement. “Thanks for going with dad. I think he secretly enjoyed flaunting you to all the relatives a lot.” Ross chuckled and coughed again. “And thanks for taking care of me, Monet.”

Jim smiled. “You’re not as gross and sweaty as you promised,” he pointed out, and Ross snorted.

“Just you wait.”

 

 

Ross was right. He could barely get out of bed for the next four days, but his fever finally abated on the 29th and he even started showing interest in more than soup and tea. On account of his recovery, they all decided to forgo any further Christmas outings, instead staying home and spending the days watching a boatload of movies and playing scrabble. To Ross’ horror, family albums made repeat appearances during those times, but he joined Jim and his dad on the sofa whenever they did, reminiscing about random moments and groaning at some of the more ridiculous pictures of his past self.

But it was sweet and comfortable and as their visit was drawing to its end, Jim couldn’t remember ever not being comfortable here.

They said goodbye to Ross’ dad on the second of January. As they stood on the porch in the crispy January air, Jim found himself wishing that their break could have gone on for a little longer: Ross still looked a little bit like he could use a few more days of extended naps and chicken soup instead of returning to textbooks and term papers.

But that was just a part of the reason. The last ten days had been nice, despite Ross’ flu, and there was a small ache in Jim about it coming to an end. He wasn’t quite envious of Ross’ relationship with his father, but he could see clearly now what he’d never had with his own. And the way Mr. Poldark had accepted him made Jim all the more aware of it.

 

Ross’ dad gave them each a hug once Ross’ car was loaded and ready to take them back to on the road to school. He remained on the front steps as they pulled out of the driveway, Jim at the wheel again to give Ross another chance to catch a rest before their last semester at the university would begin. They waved to him as they started up the street and then Ross leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes.

“Well, that didn’t go quite as I expected,” he quipped. “I’m sorry if this Christmas sucked.”

Jim glanced at him as they took a right turn onto the next street. “It didn’t suck. It was actually pretty nice, your flu excluded.”

“I’m sure dad had plenty of time to tell you all about my crazy teenage years,” Ross groused. His voice was still a bit scratchy but his usual warmth was back in there and it made Jim happy to hear it.

“He dished out a bit dirt on you, yeah,” he admitted. “But that’s not all we talked about. We actually talked quite a lot, and it was… interesting.”

“Care to enlighten me?” Ross said, an eyebrow raised in curiosity even though his eyes remained closed.

“One day, maybe,” Jim replied. It was meant as a tease, mostly, but there had also been things that Jim and Ross’ dad had discussed which had given Jim a lot of food for thought and which he wasn’t ready to mention just now.

“Hmph.” Ross tossed his head, but more than dejected he seemed pleased at Jim’s temporary refusal to divulge any details. He slid a little lower in his seat, resting his head against the window. “I guess I’m okay with that if it means you and dad got along so well.”

“We did,” Jim replied. He noted that the dark circles under Ross’ eyes had finally receded a little, leaving just little shadows behind. “But next time, if you could skip the flu-“

“Gladly, Monet.” Ross sighed, and a small smile appeared on his lips. “Though for this particular reason, I think it was almost worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <33


	4. A Late Night Delivery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another year later, and Jim and Ross are both out of school and out in the world.

Just a week ago, Jim had been hoping for a white Christmas.

Now, as the highway traffic inevitably slowed to a crawl due to an incoming winter storm, he wanted to slap himself for such a colossally stupid wish. With darkness having long since fallen, and with the backdrop of yellow and red car lights snaking away in both directions before Jim, the big, wet snowflakes offered a pretty sight. Decent driving conditions, on the other hand - not so much.

_'If I ever breathe a word about snow on Christmas Day again, please punch me',_ Jim texted to Ross as he came to a full stop behind a red pick-up truck.

Ross texted back almost immediately. _'Oh shit, it’s started already? Where are you?'_

_'Still about 50 miles out_ ,' Jim informed him. In this weather, he may as well be half a continent away.

_'I don’t suppose you’re going to make it in time for the drinks at  the Monk?'_  Ross inquired next, and Jim sighed to himself upon reading the question. They were supposed to go out with Ross’ work friends tonight, and Jim felt a pang of something akin to reluctance at the mention of that particular group. Ross seemed to be spending a lot of time with them these days.

Not that Jim could blame him: living apart due to jobs in different cities did leave them both with an awful lot of empty time to fill, and Jim was glad Ross had people to hang out with during the week. But lately, it seemed that Ross had gotten particularly tight with the group from Trevithick Mines, going out until late hours with them a few times a week, and Jim wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He didn’t want to be jealous, and he didn't think that he had a reason to be of anyone in particular – just.

Sometimes he wasn’t sure what this living situation would do to the two of them. It was supposed to be only temporary, but what if they grew apart before they could find a way to live together? Maybe Ross would realize he didn’t really needed Jim that much these days?

Ross hadn't given any indication of wanting out, though, he told himself. They did text and call and video daily and they took turns driving to one another’s place for weekends and days off. But it wasn’t the same as living together at uni.

It wasn’t the same at all.

Yet the internship Jim had been accepted for at a large art museum had been impossible to pass by: Ross had been the first to tell Jim that he should take it without thinking twice about it. And then came Ross’ job, the one that had panned out among all the positions he had applied for; it wasn't the best and it was not as close as they would have hoped, but it was all he had going and he felt that he better try. But the result was that they couldn't quite set up a place to live together.

So this was how they existed for now, in the first year out of college. Jim was aware that they’d both been very lucky to land jobs and (poorly) paid internships this quickly, in the field of their studies; on the other hand, this was turning out to be a pretty exhausting way to live. Especially now, when the pre-Christmas madness at the museum included not only public hours that ran later into evenings than usual, but also various private events which Jim was expected to work as well.

The overtime was good. It meant more money and less time at his evening job at a hobby store. It meant he could buy decent presents for Ross and his mom and Tess, and take a few days off for the holidays.

But it also meant that he and Ross hadn’t seen each other in three weeks and that he was now completely wrung out when it was finally Christmas Eve.

Consequently, going out to drink with Ross’ boisterous friends was the last thing on his wish list.

He mulled over the answer to Ross’ question as the traffic crept forward thirty more feet before stopping again. ' _You should go ahead and go without me_ ,' he wrote back in the end, contrary to what he really wanted to say. But just because Jim was stuck in traffic and tired didn’t mean that Ross should miss out on a bit of festive fun with his mates. He’d worked hard this year as well.

Then, after advancing another whopping twenty feet, and even more against the tired signals of his entire self, he added: ' _Maybe I can join you at the pub after I make it to yours, if I have any energy left.'_

It was radio silence from Ross’ side for a few minutes while Jim went on with the stop-go-stop-go traffic jam routine and progressed a mere dozen meters for all his trouble. The way his windshield wipers pushed the big white snowflakes that fell from the sky across his windshield was almost hypnotic.

Ross’ answer came through a short while later, after a hopeful moment when the cars on the highway picked up a bit of speed only to come to a complete stop again. ' _Ok, I think I’ll head over to the Monk shortly. Drive safe and keep me posted?'_

The discordant feeling increased as Jim read the words, but then, it was his own fault for not saying exactly how he’d felt. He sighed again and replied with a mere ' _Great, have fun,'_ and then turned his remaining focus to navigating the slippery mess on the highway.

 

Two hours later he was pulling onto Ross’ street, beyond exhausted and jittery from the difficult drive. The street curved uphill ahead of him and the fresh snow was crisp and nearly undisturbed here; Jim tried to give the car enough gas to make it closer to Ross’ house halfway up on the left but gave up when he felt the tires struggle to maintain traction. There was an empty parking spot on the right and he steered into it, only using a minimal amount of effort to straighten the car before engaging the parking break and stepping out to stretch his stiff body.

The snow was a few inches deep here already and now that he didn’t have to drive anymore in it, Jim was able to better appreciate the pristine whiteness of it and the way it glittered in the glow of the streetlamps. The street was hushed under the continuing snowfall, and the Christmas lights framing many of the tall houses, porches, and windows seemed to be put on solely for Jim’s own benefit.

He grabbed his bag from the back seat and thought about grabbing Ross’ presents too, but one of them was a bit larger and heavier and Jim decided to come back to get it later. It was Christmas Eve already but they would not exchange gifts until the next morning so there would be time.

He locked the car and set off for Ross’ house up the hill, almost reluctant to disturb the freshly fallen snow with his shoe prints. But as the snow was still coming down and was supposed to continue through the night, he was sure they’d be soon erased again.

He didn’t spot Ross’ car in front of the house where Ross was renting a tiny place, it seemed that Ross really had gone to the pub. Jim had updated Ross periodically about his progress through the snowmaggedon on the highway, but Ross’ replies had mostly consisted of encouragements and didn’t divulge any details about the gathering at the pub. And Jim hadn’t asked, though he was planning on texting Ross once he was upstairs, telling him that he wouldn’t be joining them tonight. Hopefully Ross wouldn’t stay out till the wee hours because Jim wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to stay awake.

As he pulled out the spare key to the house’ front door, he hoped Ross wouldn’t be too ticked off if their reunion after several weeks apart would include an extremely drowsy Jim. But he couldn't see how it would get any better: he set his feet on the first flight of stairs of three and hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. The climb was probably going to use up the last few ounces of his energy.

His leg muscles and back complained loudly when he dropped his bag on the floor of the tiny landing at the top of the house. All he wanted to was crawl into Ross' bed and fall asleep, preferably with Ross wrapped around him. Unfortunately, the last part of that would probably have to wait a while.

He was just reaching up to unlock Ross’ apartment when footsteps suddenly sounded from inside and the door flew open.

Jim blinked at the grinning Ross who stood there before him. His mouth fell open, though he seemed momentarily incapable of words.

“Hey, Monet,” Ross said, all cheer, “you sure took your time getting here.”

And before Jim could get over his shock of finding Ross very much at home, he was pulled unceremoniously inside, his bag included. Ross closed the door and grinned wide as Jim continued to gape at him.

“I thought you were out?“ Jim managed to pull himself together to say. The pleasant warmth inside Ross’ attic space enveloped him, quickly penetrating through and making him even more aware of how tired he was.   

Ross tossed the bag aside and shrugged. “I was going to go, but it’s been week weeks since we’ve seen each other and I just wanted to make sure you got here alright.” He tugged Jim further inside the small space and Jim slipped out of his coat, still a little dazed. Ross inclined his head at him. “You alright? Sounds like the roads are hell.”

“They were awful,” Jim said, and for want of other options, he threw his jacket on the floor. Ross smiled at that, his eyes studying Jim intently.

“You look really tired,” he concluded. He moved closer, into Jim’s space, and his hand went to the back of Jim’s neck in a familiar, intimate gesture. “Are you?”

“Fucking exhausted,” Jim admitted. He fought the urge to close his eyes at the melting sensation that erupted in him at Ross’ touch.

“Poor Monet,” Ross crooned. “But you made it and you don’t have to do anything for the next five days. I have all the food and anything else we might possibly need.”

“I should go get your presents, they’re still in the car,” Jim pointed out, and then did close his eyes and nearly dissolved in bliss when Ross shifted even closer, pulling Jim into a hug.

“They’ll keep till morning, right?” Ross hummed next to his ear.

“Yeah,” Jim agreed, “but we might need a shovel to dig them out by then.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage.” Ross kissed the outline of Jim’s ear and Jim shivered and sagged against Ross’ warm, solid body.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” he murmured into Ross’ shoulder. God, Ross felt and smelled so good, Jim could sleep right then and there.

“You’re so pliable when you’re tired,” Ross laughed softly into Jim’s hair. “Come on, how about we get you to bed?”

That sounded like paradise, and all that Jim had been guiltily hoping for. “Can we, please? I hate to be boring but these three weeks of back-to-back events were brutal and the drive didn’t help... I'm afraid I don’t have any energy left for a proper reunion either, though…”

Ross made a soothing noise as he steered Jim around the corner and to the bed under the double window. “That’ll keep till morning too, Monet.”

Jim hummed agreement. As they neared the bed, the clock on the nightstand next to it told Jim it was already eleven - the drive had taken him almost five hours.

Ross easily tipped Jim backwards onto the sheets and divested him of his shoes and sweater. Jim managed to scoot up to the pillows and then he collapsed, intending not to move for at least ten hours. He felt Ross’ weight land next to him and then there was an arm around Jim’s chest, Ross’ body pressing against Jim from the side. He sighed deeply as his aching muscles and back thanked him for finally relieving them.

“Are you going straight to sleep?” Ross asked, amused.

“I’m not sure I can open my eyes or move another inch today,” Jim confessed.

Ross chuckled. “Then don’t.”

He settled next to Jim, and Jim put a hand over Ross’ arm to anchor them together. He felt his own breathing deepen almost right away; the sense of anxiety he’d felt over the last few weeks finally retreated far enough to allow him to relax.

“I didn’t like this,” he said quietly, already falling into a half-asleep state that allowed him to speak more freely. “Being away from you for three weeks, I mean... I missed you and I’m jealous that you got to hang out with your work friends more than with me…”

Ross was quiet for a moment, but Jim could feel him shift and prop his chin up on Jim’s shoulder. He sensed that Ross was looking at him but he couldn’t quite summon enough will to meet his gaze.

“You have nothing to be jealous of, Monet,” Ross said. “We just hang out because that’s something to do, but they’re just friends.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jim said. “It’s just… this is harder than I thought. This… living separately.”

“Yeah. This month really sucked. But it’s just for now.” Ross laid his temple on Jim’s shoulder and sighed. “I’m sure that after the holidays are over, we can go back to seeing each other every weekend again. And when your internship is finished, we can figure out what’s next.”

“Yeah.” Jim was lulled by the hum of Ross’ voice, the little vibrations that went through him sending him further into a comfortable, near-comatose state.

With the last sliver of consciousness, he remembered something else, a slight worry that has been settled in the back of his mind while he’d navigated the slick roads. “Oh hey, have you heard from your dad yet?” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Ross said. “Just before you came in, actually. He sent a message that he’s back at the tour base in Panama.”

“Oh, good,” Jim said. “Is he managing alright?”  Ross’ dad had suffered a fall a month and a half before, cracking a few ribs.

“Seems to be,” Ross said. “Didn’t mention having any trouble getting around, so it seems he’s good.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Jim smiled. “And you? No flu?”

“You know I’ve had my shot this year,” Ross grinned.  “I’ve learned my lesson the hard way. Now sleep.”

Pacified that Ross had had news from Mr. Poldark and cocooned under a roof on which snowflake after snowflake piled silently up, Jim finally went drifted off.

 

 

Dawn light was muted the next morning, as the snow was still at it outside, but it woke Jim nonetheless. Briefly, he considered slipping out to sneak in the presents from his car, but he realized that Ross must have removed his jeans sometime during the night and just getting dressed seemed like too immense an effort right now. He drew the line at going to the bathroom before sliding back into bed as noiselessly as possible, smiling at the picture of Ross who was sprawled over his side of the bed. His arm was thrown out towards Jim as if in invitation and Jim took it, settling down next to him in as he let his eyelids flutter shut once more.

Next to him, Ross shifted and hummed. “Did you just go somewhere? Your feet are cold.”

“Just bathroom. Was thinking about fetching those presents of yours but the bed looked too good,” Jim said.

“It’s freezing outside,” Ross said. “Stay here.”

“You don’t sound like you want your presents very badly,” Jim snickered, sticking the tip of his nose under Ross’ jaw.

“Maybe I want something else more badly,” Ross stated. “It’s a present of sorts that got delivered to me last night.” He lowered his face to align it with Jim’s and kissed him, slow and shallow at first, then deeper.

“A rather unexciting and sleepy present,” Jim grinned.

“That’s okay,” Ross said, sounding amused and unconcerned, and a little bit suggestive underneath; Jim’s ears were now very good at picking up the little undercurrents in Ross’ voice. “I can work with that.”

Jim made an inquiring noise, but Ross was already kissing him again instead of an answer. Now that Jim was rested, it was easy for desire to rise and start spreading through his chest. It raced along his nerve lines when Ross’ coaxing tongue pressed Jim's lips apart. The next noise Jim made was an expression of definite approval, and Ross acknowledged it by rolling Jim onto his back and ducking down to kiss his neck, pushing Jim’s shirt up to gain access to his stomach and chest as well.

“That’s nice…” Jim trailed off as Ross’ hands skimmed along the exposed skin. He stuck a hand in Ross’ hair and grazed Ross’ scalp with his nails, enjoying Ross’ soft moan as his curls slid through Jim’s palm. “So fucking nice…”

“Want me to get you off?” Ross whispered, lips on Jim’s stomach and fingers already tracing the top of Jim’s thigh. Jim groaned at the offer, wondering if he should accept or work himself up to something more mutually beneficial, but the small sound seemed answer enough for Ross.

A moment later, Jim’s briefs were off and then Ross moved his thighs to the sides so that he could settle between them. Jim’s pulse sped up, heart thudding heavily in his chest as he lay there processing the rather amazing turn of events.

All he managed, as Ross lowered his mouth to his cock, was a deep groan of intense pleasure. And if he thought Ross would start slow that day, he was wrong: Ross didn’t play any games, going straight to what he knew Jim liked the most. In a minute’s time, Jim was a squirming, breathless mold entirely at the mercy Ross’ hands and mouth, and another minute later, he was stifling shouts against the inside of his own forearm, hovering on the edge of orgasm. He was afraid he might wake the entire house in the complete quiet of the early morning, but he couldn’t help it: Ross was merciless and didn’t give Jim a moment’s respite until Jim was shaking apart under him.

He still trembled as Ross pulled off, a satisfied smirk just visible on his face in the dim light. He lifted an eyebrow at Jim, grinning like a smug cat.

“Good?” he asked, and Jim pulled him back up to himself, happy to discover that Ross was hard as rock as he brought him flush against his body.

“I think you know it was,” Jim said, still catching his breath. “So… I was on the fence about whether we should consummate this reunion before or after presents, but now I’m strongly leaning towards before.”

“We could do both.” Ross grabbed Jim by the waist and ground his hips against him, his eyes full of heat. “You up for that?”

“You definitely are," Jim pointed out with a laugh. "So let's get to it."

 

 

It was as lazy a Christmas Day as Jim could have hoped for. They fell back asleep after the first, heated round of sex, and later took a long shower and brought coffee and raisin bread to bed, watching the snow-laden branches of the tall pine tree outside the window sway in the breeze. The snowfall was dwindling to occasional flurries and the sun was peeking out; it looked idyllic from the warmth of Ross’ bed. Ross brought Jim one present to open and it turned out to be a book on modern art, so they perused it over refilled mugs and then made out next to it, the coffee growing colder on the nightstand next to them.

Three weeks apart seemed to have made both of them touch-starved, and Jim only welcomed it when the make-out session evolved into a second round of sex. This time Jim was on his stomach, Ross’ body a pleasant weight on his back as they pushed each other towards completion again, fingers laced together on both sides of Jim’s head. Jim was beyond words, unable to process anything besides how good this felt. Above him, Ross was cursing as he got closer to the edge and Jim soaked up his desperation, wanting more of it, more of Ross’ intensity, more of everything.

“I’m not sure we’ll manage to even make it down to the car at this rate,” Jim said as they lay panting on their backs a few minutes later, sweat running down his back and soaking into the sheets.

Ross laughed, shoving damp curls off his forehead. “I do want to open my Christmas presents eventually,” he assured Jim, a spark dancing in his eyes as he gazed at him from the side. “I just want you quite a bit more.”

“More than Christmas presents?!” Jim teased.

A light of a different kind entered Ross’ eyes: softer and more serious. “More than anything and anyone else, Monet.”

There was something about the way Ross had said it that made Jim’s heart pause and then beat much faster. “Me too,” he whispered, and then leaned in to kiss Ross, to seal the sentiment.

He not only shared the feeling; he wanted it to stay that way for years and years to come, no matter where those years would take the two of them.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :)) I've struggled a lot with the main story this year and almost abandoned/deleted it, but then the idea came to check in with these two as a way to show what's in the cards for them in the future. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


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